disappointedly, "he dodged like the devil, as of
course he ought, you know."

"I'll get him," said Moore. "Smoke him out," proceeding to open the
stove door.

"Stop!" screamed Bruce, "don't open that door! It's full, I tell you."
Moore paused. "Besides," went on Bruce, "smoke won't touch 'em."

"Oh, that's all right," said Moore, coolly and with admirable quickness,
"wood smoke, you know--they can't stand that."

This was apparently a new idea in demonology for Bruce, for he sank
back, while Moore lighted the fire and put on the tea-kettle. He looked
round for the tea-caddy.

"Up there," said Bruce, forgetting for the moment his devils, and
pointing to a quaint, old-fashioned tea-caddy upon the shelf.

Moore took it down, turned it in his hands and looked at Bruce.

"Old country, eh?"

"My mother's," said Bruce, soberly.

"I could have sworn it was my aunt's in Balleymena," said Moore. "My
aunt lived in a little stone cottage with roses all over the front of
it." And on he went into an enthusiastic description of his early home.
His voice was full of music, soft and soothing, and poor Bruce sank back
and listened, the glitter fading from his eyes.

The Duke and I looked at each other.

"Not too bad, eh?" said The Duke, after a few moments' silence.

"Let's put up the horses," I suggested. "They won't want us for half an
hour."

When we came in, the room had been set in order, the tea-kettle was
singing, the bedclothes straightened out, and Moore had just finished
washing the blood stains from Bruce's arms and neck.

"Just in time," he said. "I didn't like to tackle these," pointing to
the bandages.

All night long Moore soothed and tended the sick man, now singing softly
to him, and again beguiling him with tales that meant nothing, but that
had a strange power to quiet the nervous restlessness, due partly to the
pain of the wounded arm and partly to the nerve-wrecking from his months
of dissipation. The Duke seemed uncomfortable enough. He spoke to Bruce
once or twice, but the only answer was a groan or curse with an increase
of restlessness.

"He'll have a close squeak," said The Duke. The carelessness of the tone
was a little overdone, but The Pilot was stirred up by it.

"He has not been fortunate in his friends," he said, looking straight
into his eyes.

"A man ought to know himself when the pace is too swift," said The Duke,
a little more quickly than was his wont.

"You might have done a